


She, To Her

by wreckofherheart



Series: And I Feel Your Warmth, And It Feels Like Home [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8059930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: Mako brings you flowers later that day. Kisses your cheek. He doesn’t stay long. He has duties too, and you wave him good bye.Snowdrops. Delicate snowdrops, wrapped in blue.You think of Korra, and raise the petals to your lips.
[Sequel to Prison My Eyes.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to **Prison My Eyes** , so do read that before starting this story.
> 
> So, then. Hello! I quite liked the idea of a sequel, and here we are. Some parts are fairly angsty, but after everything these two have been through, there's bound to be a little struggle. 
> 
> This story does follow closely to the episode _Reunion_ (Episode 7, Book 4) in a few sections. However, I have also included my own twists.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!
> 
> Music lyrics are from Tell Her You Love Her by Echosmith.

 

– _speak what your heart wants you to_  
_tell her she’s lovely_  
_always tell her the truth_ –

 

 

 

 

 

     When you make Airbenders fly, and you’ve recreated a city, your father’s achievements are buried deeper into the earth. You suddenly outrank him in every possible way, and he mourns his loss through copious letters. So many letters, broken words, and you’ve burnt them all. You’ve lost track of how many letters he has sent. Pleas for forgiveness, sent from a damp, dark prison cell.

Until you’ve had enough. 

You want him to see your anger. And you want it to _hurt_.

Then, across from the table, tears blinding your vision, he speaks to you. 

His voice leaks with remorse.

‘You are the greatest thing I ever created.’

** x **

     It has been two years since. 

Sometimes, the world behaves as if she never existed. In their so-called grief, the people build a stone statue, and you look up at the great Avatar. How Godly she appears, watching down on her city; strong and powerful and beautiful. Something made out of a dream. 

You’re sickened to your stomach.

The Avatar isn’t a statue, no Goddess to be worshipped. She’s a broken thing; a shattered heart clutching onto your hand when the monsters appear from under the bed. A little girl, crying into your chest, desperate, _so desperate_ , to be ripped from this horror she’s trapped inside. 

The love of your life.

Your dearest friend. 

And nobody can fathom her humanity, her torn spirit. 

Nobody wants to.

** x **

     Mako asks you again, and you’re busy going over blueprints with a few of your best employees. You can feel him watching, arms folded. Impatient. The city demands life from you, your father demands your forgiveness, and Korra demands your heart, and it’s all _too much_. 

So, after you’ve assigned your employees their next task, you turn to him. 

The uniform doesn’t suit him. Mako wants to be a gentleman, a creature of prestige; he wants to serve, wants to be better, and you realise how much two years have stolen from you both.

He asks about Korra.

Wants to know how she is, why she hasn’t responded to his letters. _Is she still alive?_

In some ways, you sympathise. For some reason, Korra had read his letters, but felt no need to reply. Too private, too ashamed, too humiliated. 

In other ways, you’re protective. Only _you_ saw what Korra went through. _You_ were there when she screamed out in the night. _You_ were there when she wanted nothing to do with you, bleeding over the bars, in agony to walk again. _You_ were there while she healed, while she recovered, and _you_ were there when she kissed you, made love to you.

You saw _everything_ and Mako has no idea. 

But the truth is, you don’t know the answers to his questions. 

‘I haven’t heard from her either.’ And Mako will never know how she breaks your heart. You roll up your blueprints, and stuff them under your arm. Look at him, and his face is sad, reluctant. Disappointed. ‘I’m sure she’ll turn up.’

For him, for everybody around you, you have to stay optimistic. 

Even if the thought of losing her keeps you wide awake at night.

‘Yeah. Yeah, maybe,’ he mumbles. Shoves his hands into his pockets, and walks away. 

It triggers something. Him asking about her. _You want to scream at him for asking about_ ** _her_** _._ Work is all you have in order to distract yourself, but there are days when you just want to slam your head into a wall. Deliberately bruise yourself from the machinery. Somehow find Korra again, and grab her by the collar, _demand_ what game she’s playing at.

_Does she have any_ **_idea_ ** _how much she means to you?_

You don’t return home until after midnight.

** x **

     Eventually,when another year has passed, your emotions reign victorious, and you sob into your pillow. 

Abandoned.

** x **

     The Avatar’s teacher, Tenzin, pays you an unexpected visit. 

Your heart falls, and you expect him to query about Korra, but instead, he approaches you with an embrace.

Feeling taken aback (and slightly embarrassed from the dried oil across your cheeks), you chuckle nervously. But he rests a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that you’ve done nothing wrong. He even praises you. Confesses how useful the wings you created are, how his children can’t get enough of them; the amount she has done to aid the world of Airbending.

_How much my father would be ashamed to hear that_ , you think. 

‘What is this?’

You turn to what he is pointing at. ‘Oh.’ A smile reaches your lips. You won’t admit it, but you _love_ talking about your latest inventions. The invention itself barely stands, and it’s mainly just bits and bobs thrown together. ‘A little creation for us non-benders who wish to fly as well.’

‘Ah!’ He laughs. ‘Wonderful.’

‘Of course, it’s much more complex. We don’t have the air on our heels, after all.’

‘Hm.’ He narrows his brows. ‘Well, I have no doubt in my mind you’ll be able to overcome that dilemma. You have a creative imagination, more transparent than anybody I’ve ever known.’

A part of you wishes Korra heard that. 

‘Thank you.’

Just so she could be proud of you as well.

** x **

_Dear Korra,_

_I shall give up on pretending you continue to reside in the South Pole.  
_

_Wherever you are, I hope you’re coping. If time alone is what you require, then I understand. I only desire what is best for you.  
_

_I only want you to be happy.  
_

_Please, it has been three years since I last laid eyes on you, and I miss you. So much.  
_

_At least write back, just to tell me you’re alive.  
_

_With all my love,_

_Asami_

** x **

     The next time Mako arrives at your home, his tone is sharp and he thinks you’re hiding secrets. 

You know, deep down, that he means well. It isn’t his fault if his concern for Korra plagues his language. If he can’t talk to you like a friend should, because someone close to him might possibly be dead.

But you’re hurting too. And you’re _sick_ of the assumption that you don’t care. 

You might be drowning in your work, you might be refusing to discuss the Avatar’s whereabouts, but you care _deeply_ about her, more than anybody else.

It’s only that you hide it well.

‘What is going on between you two?’

You frown at him. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I just wonder. You were gone for a long time, and when you did eventually return, you weren’t with Korra. In fact, you’ve barely said anything about her since you came back, so did you two have a fallout or something? Is that why she’s not coming back?’

A spear pierces your heart.

How _dare_ he?

Mako folds his arms, certain he has realised the problem. ‘Oh. It _is_ you.’

‘You’re talking nonsense.’

‘It is you, isn’t it?’ Mako sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘If I had any idea you were both having issues, I wouldn’t have––’

‘You don’t know _anything_!’

Mako stops. Looks at you, wide eyed, and a chill passes between you both.

Anger consumes you whole, and the last person on earth who made you feel this way was your father. The fact Mako would assume so _less_ of you and Korra makes you _ache_ , and you nearly burst into tears. What does Mako know? He might have been close to Korra beforehand, but he didn’t see a damned thing. He didn’t see her when she was at her worst.

But this is about Korra, this is about a girl who clings to your heart, so you cry anyway.

Tears roll down your cheeks, and you _yell_ at him.

‘Korra and I have never been closer! You were not there. You didn’t want to come to the South Pole, and you didn’t spend a single _second_ with her when she was down. You have _no idea_ what’s happening to her right now. You can’t even _comprehend_ the amount of pain she has been in, what she has had to do in order to walk again. You didn’t see what I saw, Mako, so don’t you _criticise_ me!’

‘I…’ Mako blinks. Lowers his gaze. ‘Asami.’

You wipe your eyes. 

Try to calm down, catch your breath, but you can’t stop _shaking_.

‘I know she didn’t reply to your letters, and I’m sorry. I am. But she couldn’t bring herself to. She was… I swear, she was a different person. She was _trying_ so hard, Mako, so, _yes_ , she didn’t respond to your letters. She leant on me instead because I was _there_.’ 

You inhale. 

Pause for a moment, and Mako patiently waits. 

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper. ‘But I…. I’m so _tired_ of everybody thinking they know Korra, when they have no idea about what has _actually_ happened. You don’t come out of a trauma like that. Nobody does.’ _Not even her. Not even the strongest person in the world._

Mako steps over, takes your hand. ‘I know you don’t. I––I know what happened to her, Asami. I was there too, remember?’ His voice is soft, apologetic. ‘The fact she is able to walk again–– shit, it’s a miracle, and I’m so grateful you went with her to the South Pole. I just worry. I’m allowed to worry, okay?’ He shrugs. ‘She’s my best friend too.’

You look down at your hand in his, slowly pull away. Mako doesn’t make an effort to hold you.

‘It wasn’t a miracle,’ you murmur. ‘It was desperate.’

Turning on your heel, you avoid witnessing his expression. While he stands there, silent, you flick on the kettle. Tidy away your work, sheets scattered across your desk. Giving yourself something to do, something to distract you, but Korra’s face, her smile, her bright eyes; she won’t ever leave your mind. 

Your hands tremble. Tears sting your eyes, and you stop altogether. 

Silence. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his gaze on your back, and you can’t possibly imagine what he’s thinking about. 

You two were so close, once upon a time. 

The kettle flicks off. You reach over. ‘Tea?’

‘No. Thanks.’

You pour him a mug anyway, and he accepts. Neither of you drink it. 

‘How’s Bolin?’

‘Okay. I haven’t seen him in a while. How’s your father?’

You nod. Place your mug down. ‘It’s stuffy in here.’ Approach the window, and open it. A cool breeze enters the room, and you lean against the window. Watch Mako in the reflection. He hesitates, tapping his finger on the rim of the mug. Then, finally, he comes over to join you. 

Sighs.

‘Are you in love with her?’

You think, _finally_. 

Finally.

You don’t answer. If you speak, you fear you might start crying, but the struggle of your grief is enough.

Mako swallows. Presses his lips together, bracing himself.

‘Is she in love with you?’ 

No answer. He twitches a sad smile, pressing his palm to the window; suddenly overwhelmed.

‘ _Oh_.’

** x **

_While she meditates under the tree, it is an image pressed deeply into your memories. You rest your head in her lap, and watch over her, the Avatar’s protector, her shield, her heart, the very creation which keeps her alive. Watch the world at peace, her perfection, her tenderness, her broken skin, her relaxed shoulders; her wonderfulness and her brilliance._

_As her eyes flutter open, you realise this is what love feels like._

_Slow, calm and heavenly._

_Touch her cheek, and smile, the happiest girl in the world._

_‘My love,’ you whisper, watching as she tilts her face into your palm. Caressed by you, held by you, needed by you. She closes her eyes again, enters a realm impossible to imagine, and takes you with her. A place where only she is your company, and nobody else can disturb._

_Raising yourself, you kiss her lips. And then your arms are around her waist, your fingers in her hair, and she’s smiling, and kissing you senseless. You both strip away your garments, your lips pressed to her skin, her palms on your breasts, tumbling together._

_She makes love to you under the tree, and you grip onto her, begging and begging and begging._

_Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me._

** x **

     It is early morning, and you’re on your way to work, a scarf draped around your neck. The air is chilly, and you shiver, but it’s nothing in comparison to the South Pole. Hands clenched in your pockets, you’re keen to enter your warm factory, however you’re stopped short. Turning your head, you look up at the statue of the Avatar, in all her magnificence, and you wonder what Korra must think.

Really, it’s bizarre. Bizarre that you’ve never considered what Korra must think about this.

These people created a statue in her honour.

And you grin. Because if Korra were here, she would simply laugh, and pose beside it; admit that they at least got _some_ of her features correct. 

If Korra were here, maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult. 

You decide to sit beside the statue, a tiny thing in comparison, resting against the Avatar’s boot. 

None of it is easy, loving a Goddess.

** x **

     Mako brings you flowers later that day. Kisses your cheek. He doesn’t stay long. He has duties too, and you wave him good bye.

Snowdrops. Delicate snowdrops, wrapped in blue.

You think of Korra, and raise the petals to your lips.

** x **

     When you next visit your father, you don’t intend to stay long; and the whole time, he’s smiling, so unbelievably proud of you, and you can’t bear the sight.

He asks about the Avatar.

Asks about you.

Even though you say so little, he knows.

He once loved another, too.

Your father takes your hand. ‘Let’s play some Pai Sho. For old time’s sake, eh?’ 

For old time’s sake, you convince yourself. But you feel good, at least, to offer him another chance.

** x **

_Asami,_

_I’m coming home._

_Sorry._

_Yours,_

_Korra_

** x **

     Regrettably, you drank a little too much the previous evening, but Mako is fooled by your pretence. To be fair, he’s far too focussed on the prince he reluctantly serves. He’s also distracted by Korra’s unexpected, but very much welcomed, return to Republic City.

You don’t know why you drank so much.

You don’t even _drink_. 

By the time you woke up, partially sober, the letter in your hand was scrunched up. 

The ink splattered with tears.

You agree to meet Mako and Korra for lunch. You agree to make this impersonal; a silly, formal arrangement. 

But inside you’re _screaming_.

** x **

     The engineering magazine is incredibly tedious, not to mention ill-informed, but you read it anyway. Or, at least, stare at the words. 

_If your heart doesn’t stop beating so fast, it might just explode._

You then realise that you’re nervous. And you don’t know why. Korra has never made you feel nervous. Korra has never intimidated you, or forced you to feel negative in any way. She has always been a positive presence. Refreshing and inviting.

Of course, back then, you hadn’t kissed her torn body under the sheets.

You’re good at coping, though, and you’re experienced at covering your emotions. You wear your mask, and nobody notices; nobody sees through you, and it’s a _relief_. 

A complete disaster.

** x **

     ‘I hope you haven’t been waiting long.’

So your heart shatters apart, and you don’t let her know.

The sound of her voice, her _wonderful_ voice, nearly reduces you to tears. 

‘Only three years.’ You joke. And then you look at her, look at her scarred, beautiful face; her wide, blue eyes and you’re _taken_. 

Korra has cut her hair.

And she’s… _different_. A good different. A better different.

Just different.

Your body is wailing out, and you come over to embrace her.

It’s hesitant, soft; you both cuddle each other like you have many times before, and you know she hasn’t forgotten.

Hasn't forgotten about the other times she once clung onto you.

So tightly, you couldn’t _breathe_. 

‘It’s so good to see you again.’

Lies. Lies pour from your lips, and you hate yourself for being so _weak_. 

Good is an understatement. Good doesn’t come _close_ to how you feel right now.

You’re angry. You’re _furious_. You want to _scream_ at her for doing this to you, for hurting you so deeply, yet you manage to control yourself. 

(But Korra knows.)

She tries to smile, and her eyes are sad.

‘You too.’

It’s too intense, too intimate; you can’t handle this, and so you take one step back. She notes your behaviour, and you quickly say: ‘And I’m _loving_ the hair.’

She blushes. Colour spreads across her cheeks, and she awkwardly stumbles over her words: ‘Thanks. You’re looking snazzy as always.’

You have to smirk then.

Snazzy. That’s a new one.

Evidently, Korra can’t _believe_ her poor choice of words, and so you throw her a rope. Despite your frustration and feelings of cruel betrayal, you try your upmost hardest to forgive her.

You have to.

You love her too much.

‘Come on. Mako got us a table at the restaurant.’

Relieved the topic has swiftly moved on, Korra follows you to where Mako waits. When he eventually sees her, Mako and Korra embrace; slightly chilly, slightly off. They sit together, talk, and you watch. Your heart in your mouth, and your pulse racing.

You fail miserably to ignore the yearning look in Korra’s eye, while she watches you from the opposite side of the table.

The whole time, she doesn’t glance away once.

** x **

     It doesn’t take much for the prince to be kidnapped. After a visit to the lavatory, and not returning for longer than normal, Mako is horrified to discover Prince Wu is gone. 

And, then, the next moment you’re driving past the speed limit, Korra and Mako advising you on which directions to take. The vehicle you’re after soon comes into view: a van, easily recognisable.

Mako starts to panic, growing impatient, and yelling at you to drive faster. His tone of voice irks you, and you tell him you’re doing what you can.

He challenges you again, and you lose your cool.

‘I know these streets better than you! I _built_ some of them!’

Korra doesn’t say a word.

Afterwards, it’s all a blur. You manage to catch up with the vehicle, and Korra jumps off, landing atop of the van. Effortlessly, she Metalbends the roof open, before jumping inside. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you wait a second, two seconds, three seconds––

––The van skids to a sudden halt, and you slam your foot on the brake. 

A man dressed as one of the bathroom attendants is yanked out, and Korra informs you both that the prince is still missing. 

In fact, the prince is allegedly on his way to Kuvira, and it looks as if you’re all too late.

While Mako rants to himself, you sit in silence, pondering over the multiple locations Prince Wu might be. You cast your eyes to Korra, observe her while she thinks this through. Narrowing your brows, you watch her walks over to one of the spirit vines, resting her hand against it.

For a while, nothing happens.

Then, suddenly: ‘They’re taking Wu to the train station!’

‘Are you sure?’ You ask, but you can’t help but feel pride. _Korra has recovered after all._ ‘How do you know?’

She jumps into the back of the car, and smiles at you, ‘I’ll explain on the way.’ Korra ushers Mako to join her in the vehicle. ‘Come on! We’re running out of time!’ 

** x **

     As you step on the accelerator, Korra leans forward slightly, her hand on your shoulder.

She’s grinning ear-to-ear, and despite the dangers approaching, she is loving every second of this wild chase. 

You can’t help but get lost in her excitement too.

** x **

     The train station is packed, and Korra is running too quickly. You and Mako try to keep up with her, and your eyes widen at the amount of trains departing and entering the station. Which train could Prince Wu be on? You look at Korra, and she’s far too focussed on sensing the prince’s energy. Mako yells out something, but you don’t hear him. 

Korra slows down, grabs your hand, and shouts: ‘He’s on this train!’

She grips your hand tighter, and you’re both running, catching up with the train departing. Korra outstretches her arm, grabs the bar to one of the car doors. As she hoists herself onto the carriage, she turns, reaching out her hand for you to take. 

And she grins at you, cocky and in love.

How much you’ve missed her.

You grab her hand, and pull yourself up, entering the carriage. Korra is laughing quietly to herself, and you look at her, grinning too. It’s all such a game. So silly, and brilliant, and exactly like old times. And she’s having the time of her life. 

Right now, you would forgive her. Tell her you forgive her for not writing back. That it’s okay. You’re just so happy she’s back with you. 

Right now, you love her more than you ever have.

Mako walks past you, oblivious. He looks down the carriage, before turning to Korra. ‘How do you know for sure he’s here?’

The smile disappears. 

Korra’s gaze hardens and she faces Mako. ‘I don’t. But I had a feeling, okay?’

‘And I’m just supposed to trust your “Avatar Feelings”?’

You nearly slap him for that.

But Korra doesn’t need you to defend her case. She rolls her eyes, and starts walking down the carriage. You stay at her heel, upset. 

You wish these two would _stop_ arguing. 

Korra’s voice is barely recognisable: ‘You wouldn’t have to if you had guarded the prince like you were supposed to.’

‘Oh, so it’s _my_ fault Wu disappeared!’

Tired of their bickering, you speed past Korra, to which she notices. That’s when she glares back at Mako, and you realise she knows you’re upset. That Mako has _ruined_ the moment you both shared. That Mako is so _clueless_ on everything. 

_Korra resents him for that_.

‘It’s certainly not _my_ fault!’

Korra has raised her voice, and Mako gets too defensive. 

You open the door to the next carriage. 

‘I’m not the one who disappeared for _three_ years!’

‘Oh? You wanna go there? Let’s go there, then.’

‘All right! How about the fact you didn’t respond to any of my letters?’

You enter through the next door, leading into the cabin. Completely unaware of their surroundings, Korra and Mako are still arguing, and it’s awful. You’re not sure if you’re saddened by the fact these two used to adore each other, and now they can’t manage ten seconds without yelling at each other. 

Or, if it’s the fact Mako is yelling at _Korra_ , and you really just _hate_ that.

‘I didn’t respond to _anybody’s_ letters!’ Korra snaps.

‘Yeah, well, turns out Asami wasn’t the only one who cared about you. I was worried about you the whole time, but you _clearly_ don’t care––’

‘Of course I care!’

You’re about to step in-between them, until you hear something rattling nearby. A red chest has budged its way out slightly, and starts rattling again.

That’s not normal.

‘Guys, shh. Listen.’

Korra doesn’t hesitate to abandon the argument. She steps over to where you are, and follows your line of gaze. It’s Mako who comes over, kneels before the chest, and pops open the locks.

Immediately the prince jumps out, gasping for air, and flailing pathetically. 

‘Wu!' Mako grabs him, steadying the young prince. ‘Wu, it’s me.’

‘Mako? Where am I? Am I dead?’

‘No, you’re on a train. We’re gonna get you out of here––’

The carriage door is yanked open, and before you’re able to see your intruders, metal bands are fired in your direction. Just as you’re about to shield yourself, Korra steps in front of you, reflecting them. You’re not able to witness how she does it, but what appears close to a tornado is manipulated from her hands. She bursts the powerful wind in the direction of the attackers.

Each of them are flown back, hitting the floor. Before they’re able to regain consciousness, Korra Metalbends the door shut. Stepping onto her toes, she uses her Metalbending again, prying apart the ceiling above.

‘Everybody out!’

The prince pulls a face. ‘I’m not going up there.’

Korra sticks out her lower lip, irritated at the prince’s unwillingness to cooperate. You widen your eyes when she grabs the frail man by his waist and throws him up through the hole. Once she hears the _thud_ of his ungraceful landing, she turns to Mako in frustration, ‘You’re next!’

‘I can do it myself.’

While he scrambles up and out, Korra softens her expression and faces you. Suddenly nothing else matters, and you smile. 

‘Sorry about that,’ she whispers.

Sorry about Mako, sorry about my anger, sorry about not writing back.

‘I know.’

You step past her, and you inhale her scent as you pass. 

Everything you remembered.

Hoist yourself out of the roof, and onto the top of the carriage. 

** x **

     The four of you survived. 

More men, undoubtedly followers of this Kuvira, had attacked. But they were no match for Korra and Mako’s bending abilities, and you were certainly capable. Your father hadn’t put you through extensive martial art training for nothing. 

Now that your home is occupied by not just Mako’s family, but the prince himself, it starts to feel less like a home. This place isn’t as kind as it used to be. 

However, ever since your father’s betrayal, it’s never felt like home since. 

** x **

     An old gramophone has been left behind. Your mother was a lover of music, but you were much too young to appreciate the melodies which had played from her very own creation. 

Until you were old enough to realise. 

It hasn’t been used since you last occupied your own home, so it’s dusty. Abused. You carefully wipe away the dust, stroke your palm across the surface. Delicately place the disc, before lowering the needle. _Tap_. A violin recording emanates from the gramophone, and you close your eyes; it’s sweet, heartbreaking tune ringing in your ears, rushing through your body.

You raise the volume, loud enough to block out the voices from downstairs. Open your french doors, and step outside onto the balcony. The moonlight is strong, lighting up the entire city; your garden is vivid with colours; flowers of all kinds. The path lit up, awake and alive. You lean forwards against the bannister, and exhale slowly. 

The music continues, and it’s beautiful. Harsh and triggering everything. The breeze is gentle in your hair, soothing across your cheeks. For the first time in days, you’re relaxed. 

For now, the war can wait.

‘You’re here.’

Opening your eyes, you brace yourself. You can hear Korra’s footsteps, light on the floor, and soon, she’s beside you. Looking out beyond. You raise your gaze, and think that the short hair suits her. 

_Reborn again_. That’s what she is.

What she has become.

(What she strives to be.)

But as she meets your eyes, your heart flutters. The damage hasn’t gone. It haunts her every day, and you’re _so_ sorry. 

Korra might have come back, but Zaheer hasn’t departed her nightmares.

Nothing really has.

The world is very much the same.

‘I thought you were downstairs,’ you say.

‘Yeah,’ she smiles slightly. ‘But I missed you.’

That’s enough to make you look away. You inhale, and close your eyes; you won’t let her know. You won’t let her know that you’ve thought about her all this time.

Ever since you had to go, dressed in blue, without a single thing left to say.

She’s _everything_. 

Korra doesn’t speak for a while. You don’t know if she’s watching you, or enjoying the view of the garden.

You don’t want to know.

But, she’s here. She’s here, with you. She deliberately sought you out.

She wants to _be_ with you.

Your throat hurts from wanting to _scream_. From wanting to grab her, yell, kiss her so hard her lips bleed. You’re so maddened by her presence, you almost feel humiliated. No one has ever made you feel this way. 

The gramophone doesn’t stop playing music, and each time the violin strings attack a chord, your heart bleeds. 

Korra moves closer.

Her fingertips brush the back of your hand, and your breath catches.

_Don’t_ , you want to say. _Don’t do this to me_.

‘It got pretty tense back there,’ she begins, and your lungs ache from lack of oxygen. ‘I mean, with me and Mako. Sorry an’ all. I didn’t mean to get you caught up in it.’

You part your lips to speak, but hardly manage: ‘Korra, it’s been three years. We just need to adjust.’

‘I guess.’

‘Please, don’t worry. I don’t mind. What matters is that we’re alive.’

‘You’re right. We are.’ A pause. ‘You really don’t mind?’

‘No.’ You swallow. ‘Korra, please.’

Korra is silent. 

You can feel her breath, rushed across your cheek. Her eyes on you. 

You can _feel_ her so _close_. 

And your body _aches_ for her touch. Wails out for her hands on your skin.

‘I’m _sorry_.’

You open your eyes, and the tears fall effortlessly. You can’t look at Korra, can’t look at her after apologising like that. 

Covering your mouth with your hand, you gasp, and shudder, crying in silence. Korra watches helplessly, and you scrunch your eyes shut. Mourning over the fact you thought you had lost her. That it has been three years, and you thought she was gone.

The love of your life, seperated from you, for an eternity. 

And Korra cannot forgive herself. For treating you that way. After all you’ve done for her.

‘Just––’ You inhale, try so _hard_ to stop crying, but you can’t. 

More tears roll down your cheeks, and you hear her agony. She exhales sharply, and then she starts to cry too.

‘Just tell me it was worth it. That you healed. _At least_ give me that, Korra.’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ her voice cracks, and you burst into tears.

This time, you don’t try. You don’t try to quieten your cries, and you just _weep_. You hide your face in your hands, and let it all _pour_ out. All those months with Korra, watching her suffer, and afterwards. Having to wait days and days for a reply.

For any sign that she might be _alive_.

Korra has made you this way. In agony over her, and you sob and sob and sob.

When her arms wrap around you, you don’t resist. You fall into her chest, and weep, clinging onto her. Shaking and unable to _stop crying_. Her fingers stroke through your hair, and she whispers how sorry she is; how _sorry_ she is that she did this to you. That she was so selfish, and stupid, and ridiculous that she didn’t even _consider_.

Locked in her embrace, you don’t ever want to leave.

‘I love you.’

Korra’s words are warmth to the cold. 

You feel _released_. 

And your cheeks are wet from your tears, your eyes sore, and you look at her; at her wonderful, _wonderful_ face, and nothing has ever compared. 

‘Kiss me.’

She does, and she kisses you roughly. A moan escapes from the back of your throat, and you tug at her hair, pushing yourself up against her body. Her hands latch onto your coat, pulling and shoving you closer, her lips demanding and hurried. 

It’s all out of balance. All _detached_. You’re too impatient, she’s too slow. And you’re moving too fast. She’s gasping against your mouth, whispering your name. You claw at her back, her bare skin under your palms. And she’s _beautiful_. Intoxicating. You’ve missed her so desperately, and she has missed you too, and neither of you know where to begin.

But it has been such a long time.

Neither of you are prepared.

Your back hits the wall, her teeth knock into yours, and you’re crushed. Sighing into her kisses, lost in her desire for you, and you let her take you completely. You don’t care. You want her, you want to love her, and you so don’t care about modesty or anything that you ought to care about. 

All you know is that since laying eyes on her, you’ve wanted her hands on your body, her fingers inside you, and her moans wrapped into yours.

Decency is your last concern. You rip apart her top, gasping at your lack of control, massage her breasts under your palms. She presses her lips together, groans at your touch, and you kiss her neck. Scatter your kisses to her collarbone, touch every scar you had kissed three years ago; new bruises from today, the wounds which nobody but you shall ever see.

Korra knocks her head back, allowing you more room, and you return to her neck again. Kissing and sucking, and running your hands through her soft hair. She’s so _warm_ in your hands, you might _burn_. Korra yells out when your tongue passes her breast, and it’s enough to send a frazzled woman mad. 

She holds your head between her hands, and slams her mouth onto yours, kissing you with whatever little energy she has left. And you don’t want to stop, don’t ever want to stop.

‘Tell me that you love me,’ you plead, ‘ _Please_.’

‘I love you,’ she gasps, ‘ _I love you_. I love you.’

How she sounds, how delicate she sounds, how broken she sounds. You can barely breathe.

You moan into the next kiss, take her wrist, ready to guide her. But Korra is older, she _knows_ , and you release her the moment her fingers graze your warmth. 

‘ _Oh_.’

Then, _finally_ , you both fall into each other.

Stop.

_Breathe_.

You open your eyes, and she’s looking right back at you. 

Her eyes are that of a dream.

‘Korra?’

She kisses you gently. Affectionally brushes her cheek against yours, and you shudder. 

‘I love you,’ and you mean that. 

You have never meant anything so dearly.

When she moves into you, when you buck your hips against her, the two of you together–– _finally together now_ ––you gasp, and cling onto her. You tilt your head against the wall, lift your legs in order to wrap them around her waist, and she takes you then and there. You let the Avatar have you, and you moan and plead and whisper how you love her so. 

All the noises you make are silenced by the gramophone, but Korra hears everything. She’s trembling while she makes love to you, and you kiss her, and you kiss her, and you kiss her. 

‘ _Don’t leave me_ ,’ Korra whispers.

You run your fingers through her hair, feel her inside you, and quieten her with your lips.

** x **

     ‘ _I’m not going anywhere without you, my darling_.’

** x **

     When the building is quiet, you rest your head on her chest, pull the sheets higher above you and her. It’s so quiet, and for a moment, you think she’s gone to sleep. Her hands are delicately balanced across your back, and you close your eyes.

Listen to her breathe.

Her heart.

_thump_

_thump thump_

_thump_

Alive. Real. In your arms. _Right here_.

Then, you hear her in the dark. Your own little lullaby. 

‘I think you’re the home I’ve searched for this whole time.’

You blink, her words travelling in your mind again and again.

By the time you understand properly, and wish to say the very same in return, she’s already asleep.

So you kiss her lips instead. Lie beside her, arm draped across her stomach, and watch her tumble into another dream. This girl is everything you ever want, and you will never, ever let her go. Not even the very depths of this earth could pry you away.

You forgive Korra, just as you forgave your father.

Drifting off to sleep to the sound of her beating heart.

** x **

     The war comes to its finale, blasting forth like a Northern gale. 

Kuvira is locked behind bars, her corruption already beginning to ease. And the battle shall one day be nothing but a howling memory. 

It is during the celebration, a prayer that the world be at peace for just a little while longer. She asks you to runaway with her, and you’d like nothing more. 

Anywhere, anywhere. Anywhere with the Avatar. 

‘So,’ you say to her, ‘You think this is really it?’

‘I don’t know.’ She’s smiling to herself, dreamy and simply happy you’re here. ‘I hope so.’

You look at her, and then you smile too. 

Korra takes your hand in hers, and guides you. Stepping into the light, another realm to belong, you can think of nothing else.

Nothing else but the love in your arms. 

The one person who makes you feel entire. 

 

 

 

 

 

 _\- but don’t you_  
_run away, run away_  
_before you tell her_  
_you love her_ -

 


End file.
